happy halloween

8:00 AM Friday, October 29, 2004

First... let me say some things to the dead people in my life... according to who finished his life's purpose first...

Shella, died before turning 1 None of your siblings are visiting your grave this year, and yes, sometimes they tend to forget you sometimes. You can't really blame them... none of them really knew you. But I know you're watching over your twin... and I know she longs for you. And I still think of the way you looked at me that day I left you at the hospital... wondering if you were silently asking me to stay... or silently saying goodbye. I'd always, always love you...

Kuya Jerry, died because he intervened when his friend was being sliced up in a fight Ate Gang misses you, a lot. She's always saying that had you been alive, your siblings would be living better lives... and you'd be able to exact some control from them. Ate Gang gets tired sometimes by picking up after your siblings' bad decisions... but she loves your nieces and nephews very much. By the way, Sarah is due to have another baby soon... and am sure you already know that. I hope you'd just watch them for us, especially when Ate Gang cannot...

Papay, who died from kidney problems and prostate cancer We still talk of how you visited Ate Veron after your death... and of how Tin and Rez were throwing stones at your coffin, unaware in their young age of all the implications of that wooden box the rest of the family watched over during the days of your wake. We still laugh nervously at how, left alone in our homes, our fridge door kept opening, and we kept smelling of candles. You should see Bitoy, how he's the spitting image of Tito Abe. And please watch over Tito Abe, more than root for his health, please help him realize instead that he's led a selfish, purposeless life.

Mamay, who suffered a stroke while we were sleeping I don't know what to say... it's you I miss the most. In my own way, and because I only had good memories of you, I still feel closer to you than Mom. I still miss your cooking... I still devour every bit of story of my childhood because you were there. I'm still proud that we fell off that sea wall because everybody knew they found me wailing on top of you... that you alone hit the rocks... and I think i really would forever feel suffused by your warmth and love. I find it hard telling stories of you to Rez and Tin (who is the spitting image of you by the way) because words will never make them see what you represented for me... or how rich my childhood has been because I knew you. I just really hope you'd be watching over me when I walk down the aisle someday... I think i'd really want your presence there... and I silently wish that Mom would live with me someday just before and just after I give birth... to take care of me and my baby... like you did for all the grandchildren you had...

Lolo Tino, who didn't wake anymore from being run over... by a tricycle at that... one Friday morning he was going to Quiapo to attend Mass Lolo... please watch over Tito Jose. If he joins you soon, I hope the process won't give him much pain. He's been through enough. On a happier note, I'm sure you're happy with the fact that all your children are still loving and supporting each other... We miss how you're always in the Philippines during Christmas and Fiesta... We miss how you always dance with the majorettes... We miss how you lived life to the fullest... but you're with your Maker now, and am sure you're happiest there...

Tito Gerundio, died from too much drinking Don't worry Tito, Ate Gang is making a good job of taking care of your brood... just watch over Sarah who lives far away, ok? I cannot help but wish, I knew you more. Just last weekend we had liswik, and I missed your cooking.

Ate Ene, died from bone cancer You have been such an inspiration... and a standard of excellence. And because of you, I got a glimpse of a world filled with cancer... a world that was also filled with hope, love, gratitude and celebration. Your cathedral windows would always be the best, and i thank you for passing on the legacy of making it. Your bestfriend, Ate Violy, remains to be such a good and thoughtful person. You must miss her sometimes. And yes, I always remember you when I see pineapples and jackfruit...

Mang Ver, who died from a stroke Hopefully, your family is faring well... we didn't know you owned a vintage car... Anyway, I still think of you most times during merienda time... especially when I see corn being sold. It was a privilege sharing with you all those snacks...

I honestly do not believe that I need to pray for their souls, for I trust that they are more at peace now... I worry more for those they left behind...

Weirdly enough, I didn't know i'd still cry over my maternal grandmother... and I believe she'd have been real proud of who I turned out to be...

On a happier note, aside from the trip to the cemetery that's part and parcel of Halloween in Lipa... am also giddy with happiness because we're going to go to Laiya, San Juan tomorrow. It's just the immediate family going for a quick swim but it's nice to be going with them... it's going to be Pyro's first trip to the beach (and no, we don't intend for him to play in the water, we just want him to be outdoors for awhile)... and it's going to be the first trip we're taking in my Dad's car.

And of course, i bloody miss the beach. I feel it's pointless to live in the Philippines without regular trips to the beach!

8:00 AM Tuesday, October 26, 2004

I typed a 2-page letter using 8.5" x 13" paper and 10.5 Century Gothic font style... to my brother. Because we had a fight. Because he was being a jerk. Because he was picking on my sister (his sister too, yes.. ahehe). Because he was overreacting to Pyro's illness. How did I deduce that he was overreacting? Well, after repatedly telling him the child had tigdas over the phone and thru sms, he came home upset that we didn't call him from the pedia's office (not Pyro's since-birth pedia), an instruction I wasn't aware of, and started verbally abusing my sister... and then climbed the stairs with a, "Mamamatay na lang ang anak ko, hindi ko pa alam" (rough translation: My child is going to die and I don't even know it... basically implying that we're taking away his right as father to know what's happening to his child... oh, actually, he said that too)

Having been someone who doesn't back down when someone is being unreasonable, and in this case, having texted him twice already after getting back from the pedia, and honestly feeling he's overreacting because the child who's sick is actually already playing and babbling "Wow" over and over (and wasn't exactly the first baby to ever get sick... and having our Mother there who saw all of us suffer from the same viral disease). I told him he WAS overreacting.

I think there were at least 3 times he almost really hit me. Really close calls as he was looming in front of me from where am sitting... even having the audacity to sort of tell me that one more word from me and he'd really hit me... only stopped by my sister (who was carrying Pyro)and my Mom... all of which, of course, made me madder...

Family quarrels would often seem petty to the outside world. The dynamics governing each relationship however is usually so complicated and layered and sometimes so full of hidden agendas.

I know that aside from believing he's disrespectful and inconsiderate and ungrateful to my sister and cousin, who have been generally in-charge of taking care of Pyro... I also find it distasteful that he is displacing his weaknesses and fears to his son.

And I can only guess what issues he has with me... although i was really surprised why he'd suddenly keep saying that all I want is money... as in, where did that come from? Heck, he even threw the entire contents of his wallet at me. Sadly, it wasn't enough to buy myself a new cellphone. And even sadder, my Mom got the money back. Anyway, he's warped, and I worry for my nephew.

But the thing that hurt me the most and has really been exhausting me is the fact that whenever I disapprove of what my brother does (and it's kinda hard to turn a blind eye to them when we're living in the same house, and we're the ones being inconvenienced), I just hate my Mother all the more. Last night, I lashed out at my Mom again... telling her that she was the one who raised such an ungrateful, irresponsible jerk! (I wanted to call him a sonofab!tch... but my Mom, with all her equally-warped notions of raising a son, isn't a b!tch)

Of course, Mom reminded me that she raised all of us. And then i reminded her that I have made infinitely better choices than the son she spoiled. I was even gearing to remind her too that I have yet to send her to the hospital... something my wonderful brother did without remorse... and without cbaracter-improvement. But my brother came back down and we fought some more.

Thus, the long letter to him. A letter not apologizing for anything, but explaining what really happened, and demanding from him some appreciation and gratefulness, not for me, but for my sister and cousin who were more hands-on with Pyro. A letter that also warned him that I will not tolerate any further disrespect and abuse of the two. A letter that also told him that eventhough Pyro is kin, he SHOULD be grateful (how does one translate "tumanaw ng utang na loob" anyway? my jerk of a brother explicitly even stated that he need not do any such thing by virtue of Pyro being our nephew).

My chest still feels heavy... burdened. After having written the letter, and this, and after crying my brains out till past 2... I am not yet at peace with what happened. And i think it's really because i'm tired of being angry with my parents... and yet, the child or human in me still cannot understand why they still continue enabling their son to be the jerk he is...

And at the back part of my mind, I worry... that I might react to all this by being too hard on my future son/s.


I also know I should watch it, lest my brother really lose control and hit me. And of course, at some remote recess of my brain, there is fear that he might deform my face or something. But seeing that I also know I should watch it, because sometimes hate for him feels just so raw, I know i could drive a knife into him in the heat of A moment (this last sentence suddenly reminds me of a parents-reading-my-diary episode, where they tried making me feel guilty for wishing them dead... back when I found them hateful as a teen... and people might even get shocked at the intensity of the hate... but what the heck).

Still, my greater fear and worry is... IF my brother and I have a go at each other... what will my parents do?


Was browsing a medical book last night, reading on Roseola and taking comfort in the fact that it isn't Measles... and wondering if I had German measles already, and thinking I should get it now lest I get it when am pregnant someday... yada, yada, yada... yes, generally getting paranoid...

Then my sister comments... that when she's depressed and feeling bad, she just goes through that book of medical problems and gets cured... for she cannot help but feel lucky and blessed that she didn't have any of those diseases... and no one in the family is really sick...

the weekend challenge

8:32 AM Monday, October 25, 2004

the nurturing challenge
QUESTION: how many people does it require to take care of a sick child?
ANSWER: if you're Pyro, it will require the whole household!

I already knew Pyro was sick last Friday. He got better Saturday morning, and then got real bad Saturday afternoon. Which made us oh-so-concerned that I brought him to a pediatrician with my sister.

I kept having to ask my sister what vitamins Pyro were taking, her milk, etc. We forgot to bring his baby book for his medical history. Anyway, he was prescribed paracetamol and antibiotics for another throat infection (his 3rd). Of course, our baby was crying like hell at the clinic, and we had to suffer his tears just to make him take his medicine. After all, he can't get better without them.

But it was a real struggle... different people had different tasks... one would have to carry him, one would have to distract him, one would have to try feeding him crackers (my sis kept telling me that i can just feed him the crackers without treating them like a jet crashing into my nephew's mouth... and definitely without the wardance i do as I make the engine noises... but Pyro refuses to open his mouth without the engine sounds and the dancing, i swear!), one would have to wipe his nose, tears and other bodily fluids, one would have to remain loving and assuring as Pyro vomits on her, etc. My sister and cousin are both Nursing students but, of course, they couldn't act professionally cold with the tyke.

Of course, he's really lucky to have so many watch over him. He's very lucky that my sister would patiently lull him and comfort him and carry him and dance with him for hours because he refuses to cling like a monkey to anyone else. He's very lucky that i love him so much I allowed him to use my right arm as a hotdog-pillow he can embrace while sleeping... resulting in this dead feeling for my arm, and a trapped feeling for my psyche (i soo hate restrictions). He's very lucky that so many are concerned, and even my Dad in the province kept checking up on him.

I just wish his Dad won't make things harder by not even trying smarter to make him take his medicine. I mean, seriously, to heck with the baby's tears, shouldn't he be more concerned that Pyro is missing dosages that might only aggravate the infection?

Still, I hope he'd get well soon. We miss the laughing baby we love so much.

the gastronomic challenge
A Filipino loves to eat. In fact, we've made it almost impossible to go hungry at any time of day here (unless you're really dirt-poor ok?). Even in major roads, vendors will be plying their wares of chips and water for those stuck in traffic.

Part of the Filipino hospitality is having your guests eat. We love to go the distance for people's gastronomic happiness... and feel we've only succeeded in really being good hosts after hearing that burp, that sigh of contentment, and that comment that he's full and the food was great.

But pray tell, how do you feed an Israeli Jew, who says he isn't vegetarian per se, just restricted by his religion on what things he could eat?. What's more, he's the type of Jew who not only doesn't eat anything that came from animals (even fish/seafood), he also foregoes certain types of vegetables...

Thank goodness, he eats bananas and drinks pineapple juice and SMB :D

But... wait, add a Buddhist in the equation please, yes, someone who cannot eat beef... oh and yeah, someone who would only have Coke for lunch and a can of juice for merienda. Upon further inquiry, this Malaysian also finds Pinoy food SWEET... and considers it a great departure from his usual fare of spicy stuff.


And yes, there's another one in the band... JRA and I racked our brains out for vegetarian places that are porkless, because we also have a Muslim guest. And of course, we'd only find out right before lunch that it's still Ramadan and therefore, he won't be having even one drop of water until 6 pm...


At least, it was ok for us Pinoys to eat wherever we wanted, and ended up lunching at Pancake House while our foreigner friends hung outside.

Dinner was at Kashmir, where JRA and his colleagues felt adventurous enough to order this Indian Drink (LASI: a yogurt, sweet/salty drink) their Malaysian GM was drinking. The consensus? It tasted like rotten milk, or infant vomit, whichever was worse.

Me, I ate 2 pieces of this roasted-chicken that's spicy but actually tastes great with calamansi. And some rice, and some pita/crust-like garlic bread. And before even arriving back home, the skin on my tummy showed allergic reactions... and yes, am still itchy...

the photography challenge
Sadly, Tagaytay ain't pretty anymore. We went to People's Park in the sky, and it was just not pretty anymore. Houses dotting the view ain't pretty. The heat of the sun and the humid clime and the smell of piss and the trash everywhere... it's just not pretty anymore.

Missed climbing all over again. The pic here is the best I've taken so far from the ill-advised trip.

the future motherhood challenge
While eating at Kashmir, a big group of Indians went in with us. JRA was teasing me about the possibility of them smelling bad (no offense meant to any Indians, Pakistanis, etc who reads this blog), and how the incense-sort smoke inside the resto was for that purpose... because we both get migraines really from strong body odor. Anyway... the group was composed of some 5 or so couples with their kids and were seated next to our table.

I already noticed that a Mom was taking her time in making the milk for her crying baby. I already noticed that because she wasn't hurried by her baby's cries, she wasn't spilling any milk either. That made me smile.

Then later on during the meal, a toddler started crying. An older child started leading him back to their table. The child's mother was just silently waiting for them. To my shock tho (it was too strong for the word "surprise"), none of the other adults were paying attention to that crying child! The child quieted down soon enough without the mother having to carry him.

I pointed this observation to JRA, and he said he thinks that could be the reason why the Indians are the best call center agents, because they know how to not overly react to what's happening (irate callers blandishing curses) and just do their necessary tasks (provide technical support to consumers who, most often than not,just didn't read the f*ckin' instructions).

I was amazed... and challenged!!! In a typical Filipino setting in malls and Churches or other public places, a crying child would have elicited every parent within hearing zone to look up, and semi-rush or think of running to the site, wondering if they can do anything. In a party of relatives, the child would have been picked up the nearest adult/elder and hush-shushed even before the child reaches his own parent. He'd have been comforted and promised the world and distracted and given a toy/bottle.

But all that isn't always necessary. And I hope i'd have the grace to not be the typical Pinay mother someday. I'd want my kids to not cry THAT loud, and to know that they can STOP crying (unless really, really hurt), and not throw tantrums and basically not grow up equating excited comforting with true loving.

I'd want to be warm, but I don't want to create wrong illusions of caring.

things that make ME go "Mmmmm..."

1:05 PM Friday, October 22, 2004

> Cool water (as opposed to cold) down my throat when I’m sweaty from a walk, or climb, or the day is just too humid.
> Softdrinks or halo-halo during or immediately after a climb, the sugar rush does wonders to my exhausted body.
> Finally being able to sit down after walking around a mall or park or up a mountain
> Cakes… as in Becky’s Kitchen cakes (choco mousse or potato almond krunch) and Choco Heaven cake from Pancake House… or Red Ribbon and Figaro’s Choco Caramel Cake… or Red Ribbon’s Rocky Road cake… or Goldilocks’ Capuccino Mousse
> White Chocolate… sadly they don’t sell/make my real fave DOVE… and Cadbury Dream Eggs are only sold in Singapore (as far as I know) while White Maltesers are sold in HK
> Ice cream… as in Cappuccino or Coffee Crumble or that old CafĂ© Rico… or Mocca and Vanilla… or Banana Splits
> Really fresh tuna sashimi and fresher oysters seasoned with soy sauce and calamansi
> Dulcinea’s carbonara
> Hizon’s Prawns in Butter & Garlic Sauce
> Ma Mon Luk’s siopao (asado) and Mami (beef)
> Max’s Sinigang na Tyan ng Bangus
> Sinampalukang Manok at Sogo (though I don’t get to enjoy it anymore)
> Shrimps and crab in sweet chilli sauce at Seaside
> My nephew’s smell after taking a bath (I’m telling you guys, J&J’s Bedtime Bath and Lotion are the best!)
> A baby’s kiss on my cheeks
> Putting on lotion after a bath (J&J Bedtime Lotion, Alyssa Ashley in White Musk)
> Using vanilla or J&J Bedtime bath shower gels
> A long and luxurious hot bath
> The feel of the warm ocean on my toes
> New panties
> New sheets
> Staying/Keeping warm in bed on cold or rainy mornings
> Rain on my face
> A really good massage (please refer to Gloria)
> A cold shower on a hot day
> Meme (caresses) on my back especially my butt.
> The feel of ice on my nipples
> The feel of a hot body on my palm (have you guys noticed how that area just past your tummy and just above your groin gets really HOT sometimes when you’re really, really aroused?)
> A tongue down my spine
> Trailing my nips along the length of a man’s back


dang am horny...

I accidentally deleted my template... grrr... and I just spent all morning looking for a new template vefore realizing i had a copy of its draft somewhere...

need to friggin' update the links and trouble-shoot again how i can make headings for links a diff color and size tho...

8:18 AM Wednesday, October 20, 2004

If there was ever a time or if there ever were moments in my life that i could have possibly questioned the existence of a God, or a Higher Power... or actually doubted that He does exist... or even believed that there just simply isn't a greater Life Force operating in the world...

If there was ever a time I didnt believe in love and goodness...

Then, i'm glad to know that I am finally enlightened. I look at Pyro and his growth in beauty, and I just tell myself... "How can there not be a God?"


Please pray for a recently-married friend of mine... who found weeks after that her husband has liver cancer.


may my heart always be open to little
birds who are the secrets of living
whatever they sing is better than to know
and if men should not hear them men are old

may my mind stroll about hungry
and fearless and thirsty and supple
and even if it's sunday may i be wrong
for whenever men are right they are not young

and may myself do nothing usefully
and love yourself so more than truly
there's never been quite such a fool who could fail
pulling all the sky over him with one smile

- e. e. cummings

9:28 AM Tuesday, October 19, 2004

Really... hasn't anyone told the singers of today that doing revivals do not bode well for their career... and suggests a certain lack of talent?

execpt for THE COMPANY, of course.

And can anyone please tell that Shereen (?) girl that her voice is matining which makes a lot of songs not meant to be sung by her?


I've always known i'd have a problem with it... and because of an article I read in some old Metro mag, I can't help but dwell on it again.

I grew up in an apartment-style house, but we owned that apartment and the one beside it. In fact, we could have owned the whole compound had my Mom had the tenacity and viciousness to be inconsiderate of the other families who were renting the other apartments.

I studied in private Catholic schools growing up. Sure, I made the choice to study in PNU in college to help ease my Mom's tuition woes (not that I still don't feel shortchanged somehow that both my siblings got to study in private schools requiring exorbitant fees for working computers, air-conditioned classrooms and a generally more conducive for learning environment... to think I was the BRIGHT one) but I also never had to worry where to get money for tuition or books. Not that my Mom didn't make me bleed first before handing over the money... or that I never felt resentful that she has to scold me about money time and again when I was really doing well in school (and yes, i know i skipped a lot of classes in college for hanging out at Paco Park or in malls... but i still graduated cum laude... and surely my parents can be content with that?)...

We also didn't grow up eating at Jollibee, or owning the latest Barbie dolls and toys... but we always had food on the table... and we always had milk... and we never had to go to school without an allowance.

Sure, we had to suffer old bags and extended uniforms but we always got Christmas gifts, and we always had parties thrown for our birthdays.

In short, I never felt poor until now (you know, when am finally earning and my salary cannot keep up with my expenses). I never felt insecure. I never really had to suffer the shame of being called by the teacher come exams time, not allowed to take the exams because I haven't yet paid my tuition fees. I never had to miss a field trip, or a school dance. I always had books to read. We've always had a TV and a telephone. We never had to be kicked out of the house. Heck, we never had to deal with parents in prison or anything like that.

In shorter still, I had a nice life.

And even when I was younger, i've always valued the sacrifice of what took my parents to where they are now... or where they were then... a position of being able to not only provide for us, but also help out their siblings and their siblings' families.

Which is why, no matter how indifferent I felt they were to me and my needs, or angry I was with them and the world... I always took my education seriously. I wanted to be someone who wouldn't waste their sacrifice. I also wanted to be someone who can afford things when I grow up, because I don't want my kids going thru hell because they had the misfortune to have irresponsible parents.

The thing is, because I had a nice life, the challenge became a twisted fear of not being able to find a partner who basically has the same goal. My friends have always teased me about having security issues, and I know that i've always told a prospective husband that I never want to have to worry where i'd get money to buy food for the table... or for the children's education...

And basically, it's just me wanting to continue having a nice life...

And it's kinda complicated by the silent wish to be a full-time mother as well. For that is indeed putting pressure on my future mate to be the sole provider... in this hard and funny-desperate times.

I am aware that there are a lot of sacrifices and compromises in store for me once I get married, financially. And I think that is mostly why I am still single and unmarried at age 27. I just really hope and pray that i'd have the grace to find a lot of things with my future husband/family NICE...

And that my kids will feel as secure and stable as I felt...


Did you know that the going rate for pre-school education for kids 3 years old and up is some Php20k already?

And what's even twistedly funny is, they mostly have play time and video-watching time during class hours? And that they teach twisting paper and folding table napkins in pre-school? Something about dexterity to prepare the kids to write.

And that pre-school is BIG on EQ and EQ-related activities?

And the training modules are usually patented, imitated, copied, simulated, etc from schools all over the US and Europe?

And ok, yes, it's really kinda cute having your kid out of the house for a while, and then arrive jumping with pride at the stars stamped on his arms, implying either good behavior, or excellent workmanship (either in cutting paper, coloring books or following a dance step)...

Still, isn't pre-school just a tad overrated and expensive?

And i question the premise of learning to fold table napkins to prepare the child for greater things... because from what I heard, kids now are supposedly smarter, so surely, if they can operate computer consoles and remote controls, they can also learn to write? And goodness, we all learned to write w/o having to crumple and shred paper! It's just plain stupid... but of course, I can't really NOT send my kids to pre-school now, since most regular schools require at least 3 years preparation.

And I also cannot help observing that... schools don't seem at all to be doing a good job in making or keeping these kids happy. I'm reading more and more reports that children nowadays are usually already depressed when they reach the age of 10... and are usually also BORED starting age four, onwards...

Heck... am even reading more and more suicides by younger kids...

Basketball camp is ok to help your kids release some of their angst... but sometimes, I think fistfights on streets with boys their age will do them more good in the long-term.


yes, i'm kinda angtsy right now...

an old love... and other things

8:42 AM Friday, October 15, 2004

GUYS... was not talking of marriage in my previous post. Was talking of something I don't wanna exactly share yet... not really because I might jinx it, but because I think I want it sooo bad that i'd be disappointed if it doesn't happen...

or if it was not given.

But I feel ripe for it... and I feel that this is a blessing in disguise for them, because they really need someone like me.

That is not confidence or an over-fighting spirit... that is just awareness that the time has come for me to do something I really love, and something i've always been told am good at...

The quote "when the student is READY, the Master will APPEAR" comes to mind... everything in its own sweet time... and maybe this is my real birthday gift from Life.


Am tickled pink by Jay's post about the swell of a woman's hips. Before, I probably wouldn't have been flattered, but well, 4 years ago, I started getting them to add to my butt... so there you go...

And speaking of butts... I posted this close-up butt pic of mine in MTC and guys have been messaging me about how yummy it looked. Not that I didn't have panties on... I was wearing this black lacey ones... ahehe

(do you think i have exhibitionistic tendencies?)


It's official. I can consume more than a kilo of fresh oysters, and even another kilo of baked oysters. But I can't consume a kilo of baked oysters alone.

I want my oysters fresh!!! Repeat, I want my oysters fresh! Repeat, Oysters should be eaten fresh!

La lang...


He feasts on rambutan. And upon arriving at home, he'd immediately walk-run to me to get my hand, and lead me the computer to indicate that he wants to view his pictures... again.

And everytime he'd see a picture with his Mom in it, he'd immediately shout, "MAMA!" Sometimes, he'd say that word aloud several times. And this gives us pause and breaks our heart for all its implications.

First, there's the fact that he can now really recognize/identify people (he'd look at me when he views pics of me with him, and look at Mom when he's in a picture with her, and look around for my sis or his dad when he sees pics of them), he has also started associating real words to real people/objects (mama, papa, mamam, tita, align, appear, bless, kiss, love, beautiful eyes), he cannot help but miss his mother (who cries everytime she calls from Korea)... in short, our baby is growing up.

Now, my Mother is usually caught saying out loud that he wishes Pyro won't learn to really walk on his own for a while longer(see, he's always been able to walk since he was 8 months, but he's never had enough confidence to let go off someone's finger... for that imaginary support)...

And now, we seem to be replaying old videos of him... of when he first tried rolling on the mat, his infant-y giggles, his cries, the first time he learned to kiss and bless, or hold his bottle...

And we'd look at his latest video, from my birthday when he was banging a spoon on a table and then half-lying on it as he shouts and screams and shrieks... and we'd say in a bittersweet tone... he's fast growing up.

I am not his mother but I can say, it's real hard watching him grow up... to hit his shins and get bruises and fall down and play outside and eat weird stuff...

Thanks to my digicam, for allowing me to document the transitions he's made and the thresholds he's crossed...

8:36 AM Wednesday, October 13, 2004

All of a sudden, am all senti-hornal.

And I suddenly long to be bathed. Yes, bathed by someone. It makes me feel like a child pampered when someone else (of course, at this age, it's a guy, and not my Mom) shampoos my hair and rubs my body with vanilla-flavored body wash on a puff. Aside from the gloriously kinky sh!t that happens during (body rubbing, tit-tweaking, and i'd stop here lest i become more graphic) the bath, it just really makes me feel cared for...

And that's a once-in-a-blue-moon change. For usually too, I'm the one who finds myself shampooing the guy and making sure he's clean everywhere. Weirdly enough, I'm one of those who always offer to bathe a lover, taking delight in touching him with care that way.

Even weirder is, after a round of passionate, mind-boggling sex... I also find myself offering a massage. Maybe it's because I feel more and more alive after more and more orgasms that I need to channel my energies onto thoughtful ways... like kneading tired muscles to make sure he's less sore when we go home.

And then, there's the fact that I miss getting MEME... that light caress that really relaxes me, sometimes enough to make me fall asleep. And I just absolutely love the feel of meme on my back (i also can't explain why i don't get tickled, ok?)... especially on my butt!!!

That's a super treat for me and am almost always rendered sleepy and useless and blisfully happy when I get caressed on my butt.

Although, considering the wonderful behind I know I possess (by virtue of Nature's good humor), I usually wonder why it gets bitten more than it gets caressed...



Something came up... PRAY for me guys, a possibility of a dream realization is at hand... but i'm caught feeling unprepared, so pray for me!!!

random thoughts from the weekend

8:36 AM Monday, October 11, 2004

Saturday was BYOB (Bring Your Own Boylet/Baon/Booze) night for my AA crowd and they, as usual, partied on whiskey, rhum (dalandan soda and rhum tastes great!), tequila, absolut vodka vanilla (?), gilbey's gin and vodka mudshakes (while I consumed a whole 1.5 liter of Sprite) while pigging out. They loved the Becky's Kitchen's chocolate mousse (it's almost like ice cream cake because it's sooo frothy creamy) that I brought. They also loved taking turns with the ORGASMATRON, and our host loved running after me to use it on me, loving the sounds I make (think, orgasm sounds when I was just really ticklish... yes, they sooo abuse me).

Not that I need thingamajigs like that to get tickled... I keep telling them, if they wanna hear the moans, i'd just moan... just to please stop violating me with their hands on my back, my hair, my ears, my neck, my ribs, my thighs...


They keep asking how I can have sex considering that fact... and i just think, well... wonders have never ceased.


I'm not sure with you guys but it feels like the world is silently but quickly being propelled to Christmas. It's like riding a fast and eager elevator... so I plan to start buying stuff for my nephews and nieces soon.

I pray, that the government's austerity measures do not affect our usual incentives!!!


Guys would often counter that they're not insensitive. They even argue that women are just overly sensitive.

But if we've already said we're watching something we like, when you called, isn't that clue enough that we're not really in a mood to talk?

And when we happen to find ourselves in a mode to finally tell you the meaning of a certain catch phrase that you've been hearing from us... and the story involves a great amount of love and hope and faith... and you start making making-fun noises, why do you get surprised when our feelings get hurt?


I allowed Pyro to eat rambutan which he repeatedly kept letting fall on the floor... kid had to go thru that rite of passage anyway.


Rio Diaz' death is all over the news, but am not complaining. She is just inspirational and brave in her faith that THE BEST IS YET TO COME for her, in death.

THE BEST IS YET TO COME... after reading a certain story from Chicken Soup for the Soul, i've never looked at death and loss any other way.

9:12 AM Wednesday, October 06, 2004


The things some people who haven't learned to be happy (or content) do sometimes. Tsk, tsk.

One of the managers in our agency is suspended for threee months for a case of sexual harassment. The thing is, having been in his company in numerous executive meetings, I can believe that he can be naughty... but I also cannot believe that he would be reduced to coercing someone into pleasing him. Heck, I can name several other managers who are more lascivious and creepily obscene.

His only fault was, he forgot to draw the line on professional relationships. Or rather, he forgot that he was the girl's boss and shouldn't be dating her.

And it just feels sad that now, his reputation is shot because some woman she hired for her looks, who he also wined and dined and treated like a queen (am sure whatever physical intimacy exchanged was consensual) decided to file a case against him. And the bumbling idiot was man and stupid enough to admit to sooooo many dates and intimacies which he believed to be consensual.

I am not saying he wasn't stupid and in the wrong. But it gets to me that women (you know, same specie as I am) would use and abuse and destroy men. It also strikes me as suspicious that it takes several dates and gifts and holding-hand moments before a woman comes to her senses and say, "Ohmygulay, i am being harassed!"


This reminds me of that girl from UST who filed a case of rape against a guy I know. The guy was shattered by the experience, of course. Not that he isn't an arrogant pr!ck... but I think he did have a point.

How could it have been rape when the girl wasn't inebriated enough, they were in an unlocked room with so many other USTedyantes outside the room partying, and the girl was pumping and grinding on top of him?


I am also reminded of two people in a message board. They met in some EB and the guy offered to give the girl a ride home. The girl offered nookie. And so they had consensual sex. But the thing was, the guy didn't have enough cash that time so the girl had to dish out some dough too.

And then she comes ranting in the message board, saying that the guy was a lousy lay (but do you really expect 100% satisfaction and performance from someone you just picked up somewhere?) and was such a cheapskate. Before anybody could blink fake eyelashes, people were ridiculing the guy for making the girl pay.

And I was like... what's the big fuss? I split the motel bill with boyfriends! Why should you crucify a man who didn't have enough cash? It's not like he insisted and held you at gunppoint!


When I was still working in DOF, and this CPA-lawyer who was 17 years my senior was making the moves on me... I knew sleepless nights and jumpy days.

He started harassing me innocently enough. He held a higher position, of course, but we were of the same batch. I even called him KUYA, out of deference to the balding spot in his head, covered by whisps of coppery hair that failed to stop him from looking older than my Dad. I'd just find it weird that he'd tell me he could see my bra with the blouse-bra am wearing when we're sitting side by side... when we're already about to go home at the end of the day. Duh, things you could have brought to my attention earlier!!!

And then the second batch of new employees came along, which brought with it people my age. I got close with one of them, Mario, and we were kindred spirits indeed (we'd run after each other tickling each other, dodging chairs and cubicles). I didn't know that he started getting jealous of Mario. It only became evident when our other colleagues would notice that he'd spend hours just watching me and Mario work together. And then, sometimes, during lunch, i'd miss Mario and find out later that the CREEP didn't tell him we're having lunch already. And then of course, there was that time when the CREEP cornered Mario at the fire exit... asking him if he was courting me... and even forcing my genius-with-the-piano friend to admit that he was in love with me. After several explanations that we're just friends and that he had a gf, the CREEP would then ask him who it was that i liked.

And of course, he also had to do the same with another male friend, Jess.

And so it became known that I was the love of his life. Some guys in our division would have a field day just teasing us... and then they'd get the CREEP to go to beer gardens with them and treat them to booze while they play sympathetic with his ramblings about how he has never fallen in love before and how he always manages to get what he wants.

And then he started getting real creepy. He'd give me rosaries and stationeries with Bible quotes. He'd give me a Bible for my sister. He'd leave earlier than I do and watch what jeepney i'd ride so he can travel with me. He'd try accompanying me to my destination. He'd ask if I was already going home or not, where I was going, who was I with. He'd steal the picture I gave to my pregnant boss (we realized it was missing from her things and found it in HIS drawer). He'd go over thru Mario's briefcase and 'borrow' my letters to him. Worst of all, he'd download NUDE pictures of pre-pubescent girls and male celebrities (wtf, even I don't care for Brad Pitt naked).

But I guess, the worst thing was... my boss, instead of talking to him about his stalking, unprofessional behavior decided to talk to me. And she discouraged me from hanging out with Mario. She also talked to Mario to stop hanging out with me. And she expressly arranged things so that i'd only go to plant visits with the CREEP. All that to avoid confrontations (I think, she was protecting Mario more than me) and further tension. Even the other people there arranged things so that the other guys from our barkada won't be found in my company. He was that intimidating.

Now, that is sexual harassment. And so, I left.


I know it's probably arrogant of me to say that it's easy to not be a victim of harassment. But really, it's easy. As easy as walking away.

It only becomes hard if the woman, deep within her, believes she deserves the treatment... or that she has no options. Or that nobody will believe her. It also becomes hard when she fails to gather evidence. Or when she doesn't exercise her rights.

I will never accept that a woman who loves sexy outfits is inviting rape, harassment or plain judgment... unless she wears them inappropriately to weddings, places of worship, funerals and really dark alleys. Contrary to what movies depict, a woman need not be wearing a see-thru cotton slip and bathing outside for her to get raped. Children get molested not because they were wearing thongs or plunging outfits. Some guys are just plain perverted and cruel.

But it's also high time women assume some responsibility when they get harassed. Like, if they cannot say NO, they also shouldn't be anywhere near men.


Which is why am thankful that my sister grew up to be more masungit than I am, and yet empowered...

my birthday wasn't perfect

8:46 AM Tuesday, October 05, 2004

... but it was filled with love, and that was all that mattered.

It was nice to celebrate it a little more quietly, though I have to admit it somehow made me feel that it wasn't my birthday at all (i even got surprised when i checked my cell at the stroke of midnight last saturday-sunday and found so many messages waiting to be read... and actually wondered if something was wrong).

Still, words cannot express the wonderful taste of Becky's Kitchen cakes (their choco mousse was sooo delicious!)... and there are no words for the emotions that make me pause everytime my brother or sister sings the happy birthday song, and my nephew would go clapping and laughing to the tune. Also, there are no words for the amazement in my parents' eyes when we were dining at Seaside (they were like, who knew you could buy really fresh seafood in Baclaran?) and hearing my Dad kid my Mom about taking her to a date there sometime soon (so she can enjoy her meal without Pyro trying to throw everything that's on the table, or attempting to hug the tables and chairs).

Of course, I mostly got white chocolates (i even got one from my sister's boyfriend). But JRA, in all his thoughtfulness and generosity, also gave me a portable X-Disk and the Beauty series by Anne Rice.

I know that am big on birthdays. I've always had an issue about people I love remembering it... and all other hoopla and sh!t about celebrating it, because really, shouldn't the world be thankful I was born? But the quiet one I opted for this year was just as beautiful. It's really just nice to be with the people who loves me most...


Tnx to all those who sent me birthday greetings. I hope the weekend went well for you guys too.

6:19 PM Friday, October 01, 2004


BF No. 4 texted this morning, inviting me to his wedding come December 18. I was actually happy for him, more worried that he was waiting for me all along to come around and be in love with him back... especially since his parents once already informally talked to my parents about finding me very much favorable for their son. I congratulated him and everything but already told him that I doubt i'd be in Lipa that time (my weekends are really precious and decembers are usually really hectic). The weird thing was, the ex also asked me to be a bridesmaid at his wedding. He insisted for me to do this favor for him. I just said I was sorry but am real busy.

WTF was that all about! We weren't childhood friends with a past that transcends the usual romantic relationships... why would he want me parading around in the same entourage as his bride? Isn't that disrespectful of the bride? (well, i dunno about you, but getting someone who used to tongue my groom for a bridesmaid is just not my cup of what's sane and proper)


Read some of AE's posts in some msg board (and no, I wasn't stalking the guy). It was bittersweet knowing that he has a picture of some girl in his wallet, someone he used to exert extras for, and also know that girl is with someone else.

I was torn between wondering whether he thinks of me sometimes too... with my ego a little miffed that i'm not anymore the one he writes poems and lovely letters about... and sad that his relationship didn't work out with that girl.

I really wish that guy well... and now am able to feel sorry for him, it must have been hellish that my feelings for him before imposed rather than inspired. And i know am not the easiest woman to please and be with.

MALALA NA KAYA: Lipstick Adik

College found me and friend Allee 'eating' lip gloss all day. That was the most make-up we'd really wear. It was Jerry who would wear eyeliner and foundation and lipstick. Fel, however, would be this vampy witch wearing dark brown, dark violet (something that would actually remind you of coffins, i dunno why) and black lipstick (and she'd look really great too!).

Anyway, i'd consume lip gloss as if they're candy. Love the dewy, shiny look they give my lips.

Then of course, I had to work and had to really wear lipstick to upgrade my otherwise plain face into something more professional-looking. And with a colleague selling Avon products, it was easy to get cheap but great lipstick. Initially, I stuck to gloss and some soft pink shade. Then I started wearing browns. Then I started blending them together. Then I started having at least 3 shades in my purse which I blend together depending on my mood. Then I started wearng deep reds.

Then I started finding that I sometimes have 6 or 7 different lipsticks in my purse. I thought to myself, I should start taking control. I saw this ad of Maybelline's Watershine lipstick and bought one. Loved it. Stuck to it and this liquid lip liner. Then I discovered Watershine Diamonds in precious wine. REALLY LOVED IT.

I lost the last one I bought tho (after having used it for 3 days lang ata). And then I got poor. And so all I could afford was a Watershine one because it costs around a hundred peso less than the one with Diamonds. But of course, I'm not too happy about it. I use it with 4 other lipsticks to achieve an effect I like.

And then, I went with cousin, sister and JRA to the L'Oreal Bodega Sale at MC Home Builders (heard they're gonna be there till Sunday) last night. It was my first bodega sale, and twas a horrendous experience! Who knew it was soooo hard to be a girl? The lines were long, everyone was exhausted and frustrated, everyone was panic-buying, the few guys there were unhappy and kept stubbing the other women's toes and I wasn't able to get a Watershine Diamonds lipstick at all!

I did get 4 new lipsticks for myself tho. Bwahahahahaha!!! (weirdly enough, they're all glittery)

And i'm attending their November bodega sale better informed now! :D


People have been asking me what I want for my birthday, and I keep drawing a blank. The only material things I really want right now is a new phone capable of voice recording (and using the recorded stuff as msg alert) and a digital camcorder... things i doubt I can ask from anyone. Other than that, I really have nothing more to ask for myself. I'm treating my family on Sunday and that's it... :) I'm partying tom night with old friends, and am sure it will be swell (I can seek their support for something am kinda hopeful about).

Life is good, and yes, I need cash!


Meanwhile, allow me to thank the friendships that have sustained me:
AA, for all the belly laughs and perversions and company and great sex tales and drinking sessions

Jay, for always being sweet and ready to cheer me up

Fuzzy, for always accompanying me in gimiks, standing up for me, believing me over others, and his silence and acceptance when i just need to have someone beside me

my blog friends, most especially, Jet, for all the e-mails exchanged that kept me sane and rational whenever i was going insane and being irrational (and for being key to my reconciliation with JRA)

and my pex friend Ayma, for being KEY to my getting over someone and letting him go... and my other pex friends (MJ, Yin, Marge)

and my mountaineer friends, both from MMS and MTC-MYG

and the EGGs from MYG.. wonderful girls to hang out with

and my counselor friends from FAD... peeple who witnessed my transformation from child to adult

and my college friends, and my high school best friend...

Ain't life pointless without friends?